Stills

In 2011, I was given a pair of cameras: A film camera which once belonged to my grandfather, and a DSLR gifted by my partner.

They died within a few months of each other that year. It's hard to process death at any age, and the death of a partner at 23 was a particularly difficult struggle, compounded by a sexual assault several weeks later. It was far too much for me to handle. So, I didn't. I avoided grieving by focusing on school. I continued to avoid it by getting a degree, by moving, by starting a new job, by working for years to grow comfortable in my career, by engaging in relationships.

For years, I avoided it.

When I was finally able to confront my grief, it was with a camera. Using photography to explore themes of grief and loss, I took portraits of people while listening to their stories of loss. I was deeply moved by the sheer amount of folks who were willing to share their personal experiences of loss and examine the deep complexity and inevitable nature of grief. As the grief heals, it's paved the way for two new film-based projects: a series of medium format portraits exploring themes of vulnerability, softness and intimacy, and playing with surreal and dreamy imagery via double exposures.

I'm continually in awe of the chemical magic that is film. I'm curious about people and fall in love with their stories. Above all, I'm deeply thankful for all the people who helped create a space for emotion and vulnerability, whether it's sharing their hardest loss or stripping down in below freezing temperatures for their nerdy friend's art project.